


Not This Time

by cmorgana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Kissing, Angry Sex, Angst, M/M, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Wall Sex, canon no happy ending, coda to 15x03, spoilers up to 15x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27426013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmorgana/pseuds/cmorgana
Summary: Porny coda to 15x03. For once Castiel decides not to leave with the weight of the whole world on his shoulders, he wasn't the only one who messed up with Jack and he wants Dean to know that before he leaves.Angry wall sex, no happy ending, is just a coda, so it's canon compliant and Cass does leave, but we all know he then gets back, just not in this fic.Obviously spoiler warning up to 15x03
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	Not This Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babyara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyara/gifts).



> I'm team "please stop hurting" Cas, I love him and I think the whole universe should stop doing terrible things to him, so I absolutely had to high something to that terrible end. 
> 
> English isn't my first language blahblahblah sorry for any mistakes I missed during editing and with the online editors blahblahblah
> 
> Oh, and the lube thing...don't worry, Dean didn't get (too)hurt, he'll just sit a little uncomfortably the day after. Unlike fics keep saying, fingering is just foreplay but not needed at all and your insides aren't dry. so, lube is your friend, but without no real damage was made to Dean. plus, he had some angel mojo on his side, because Cas always is super careful afterall

Castiel took another step toward the stairs, hands closing into tight fists. So that was it, the real closure, the rift they could no longer seal, the thing that Dean couldn't forgive. He couldn't really blame him, Castiel knew how bad he had managed the situation, how naive he had been, trying once more to solve the unsolvable by himself. 

Except…

"No," he said in a normal tone and then turned, "No, Dean, you know what? I won't leave and I won't feel guilty because you're emotionally constipated," he continued in a hard tone, fists now so tight his fingernails started to indent the skin. 

Dean said nothing, opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Good, because Castiel felt anger and desperation almost tickle at his Grace, he felt a surge of power led by fury. 

"We all messed up with Jack! Me, Sam, you. We all added to get him to that rupture point and maybe I knew about the snake, but I'm done with your ignoring things that you don’t like. You knew too, after Donatello, actually, you brought him there because you already knew, but you were desperate to hear that it wasn't true, that Jack still had a soul," Castiel kept getting closer to the hunter, stopping in front of him, until Dean stopped slouching against the table and instead stood tall and obviously furious, but the angel didn't care. For more than a decade he had kept up with Dean’s mood swings, with his total incapacity at dealing with feelings like a normal, living creature. Now it was his turn to get angry. To be done.

"Donatello told me everything was okay," Dean spat the words, voice full of venom.

"Donatello knew less than us about it, but you decided to believe him because it was the easier way, because you were desperate for a win, to stop fighting and hurting at least for once," Castiel accused, pointing a finger. 

"I think I have a right to a win!" Dean shouted back, angry 

"We all have, but you can't turn it all on me! I'm tired of being the scapegoat to clean your conscience or the one you use to take out your frustration!" Castiel lowered his voice to a menacing growl. He took one more step and the pointed finger got pressed against Dean's chest. 

"You knew!" Dean yelled, a sharp contrast to the hushed voice. He slapped Castiel's hand away, then crossed his arms protectively, "I lost my mother because of your uncertainty!" 

"And I lost my son," Castiel said back, voice even lower. It hurt to say such words, a burning pain in his chest that grew and grew every time he thought about it, menacing to eat him whole, "You lost your son too, but apparently, you didn't care about him. Jack, me, we're no blood, so we're less family. I'm terribly sorry for Mary, but I had to watch my companion, my lover, point a gun at our son, ready to execute him without even trying to find a way to save him. How do you think I felt? Did you ever even care for me?" Castiel's tone was angrier, but a streak of hurt was starting to break it in the middle. 

He loved Dean, he loved him more than anything else, in thousands and thousands of years just the love for Jack got close to the feelings he had for the older Winchester, but that was the final strike, the moment he needed to really know if the man ever felt the same. He couldn’t keep fighting for something so big if he was the only one behind it. He couldn’t forgive that pointed gun without knowing Dean loved him back. 

"You know I did! You know I loved you, I loved Jack, but that doesn't mean," Dean's voice was suddenly low, shaking. A scared whisper. 

"You did. You used to love us, then what, Dean? There's a limit to how much you can love someone who isn't blood?" Castiel seethed with rage, everything in him burning with it, wrath that he knew no Angel had ever felt, the anger of a human mixed with the fire of an Angel, "you watched Sam kill and destroy and you fought for him, over and over, but Jack...Jack lost his soul to save me, to then save us all, the World, and only because we were his family! Because he thought he was a Winchester, your son when in reality he was nothing to you!" Anger that felt like fuel, stoking itself, instigating every word.

"Castiel, you should go," Dean hissed. He was grabbing the table so tight the angel thought it was probably going to give up and splinter.

"You can't tell me to go," he could feel his Grace, restless inside that too tight human body, he could feel his power kick and scream to come out, to instinctively smite their enemy, "look me in the eyes and tell me you ever loved us or have the balls to admit I've been nothing more than an upgraded one night stand"

"Cas…"

"NO!" Castiel could feel his power flash, his eyes turning into a blue light, "don't say a single word unless it's your admission!"

"I loved you," Dean said with a solemn nod, staring into the eyes that were back to their normal blue, "but we messed up and my mother is dead," he added.

"So your mother's death gave an expiration date to your love," Castiel thinned his lips and looked away, nodding. 

"You're an Angel! You should have known what Jack..."

"Stop saying his name! You knew better than me what he was, you saw it, but you led him to believe you considered him a son!"

"And I did!"

"No! You don't stop loving a son! You lost your mother and you were just ready to take the kid from me! You wanted to inflict that pain on me just to try and fill the emptiness that you already knew you couldn't fill! Not like that! But you didn't care, so you just shoved hate inside it!" Castiel didn't even notice he had grabbed Dean by the shirt, not until he heard the hunter's back hit the wall with a painful bang, "you did that your whole life, but this time you destroyed two of the most precious things you had just not to deal with your pain and regrets," he accused

"Cas…" Dean's voice was weak, broken. He was in pain and breaking down and Castiel felt a sadistic sense of justice in that.

"What? We were together, Dean. I was family, then I was your lover, your soulmate, you said. We were fathers to the same kid, but you kicked me when I was at my lowest when I needed help more than ever. You sent me to Hell, Dean, literally, knowing the odds were that I wasn't going to come back. All that because you decided to blame me for something it took all of us to do. The only difference was that I loved the kid and apparently I was the only one!”

“He killed my mother!” Dean shouted back, pupils blown wide, hands tightening on Castiel’s trenchcoat. 

“He lost control of his power! Do you want the body count of when you had the mark? Of Sam without a soul? Jack had the knowledge of a kid and the power of a God!” 

“You should have controlled him, you should have…” stopping mid sentence Dean raised an arm, ready to punch Castiel, but the Angel stopped him mid air, hand closing around his fist.

“Think about your words, Dean,” he commanded, “there’s a limit we don’t want to cross. I know you can only spit hate and rage when you’re hurt, but you’re not the only creature in this world and you’re not the only one hurting,” Castiel’s eyes closed into two slits, waiting but menacing. 

“I loved you, but you chose him over me,” Dean spit out. 

Castiel couldn’t even think for a second, he just grabbed Dean by his clothes, pulled him in and then shoved him back against the wall, so hard the bricks cracked, smiling evilly at the grunt of pain he got as a result. 

“It was never a choice. Loving our son never meant I had to make a choice, if possible it only meant I loved you even more,” it was the most sincere truth that had ever left his lips, the most profound bound he had felt toward someone in millennia of existence, but it came out as an insult, pushed out by the pain burning fiercely in his Grace. 

“I can’t…” Dean babbled. 

His almost black eyes were now full of tears, his lungs still working to regain the air that had been hit out of them, but Castiel didn’t let him. He couldn’t hear one more justification, one more hurtful word. He couldn’t take more pain without going crazy. 

He grabbed Dean’s wrists, pinning them over his head in a punishing grip, relishing in the feeling of the blood running fast under the delicate skin. 

“Do you really think you’d have felt better, getting me killed? Would you have justified yourself that it was to save the World? Is that how little you can control your anger?” but Castiel didn’t wait for an answer he knew he would have never got, one that, maybe, under all the anger and pain he still knew, instead he pushed forward, pushing his lips against Dean’s in a furious kiss. 

Lips pressed together so hard the skin broke against teeth, and then when Dean moaned in surprise, or maybe pain, Castiel took control of his mouth with the same burning fury, licking and plunging, biting on the already ruined lips, taking and taking until Dean really started to struggle for breath and at that point he tightened the hold on his wrists even more and kept going, kept kissing, snorting when Dean, out of breath, started to kiss back with the same anger, eyes open, trying to see each other soul. 

Castiel stopped when he decided Dean’s lungs must really be burning, hungry for air when he felt him struggle with something different than anger. He pushed his hips forward, instead, another way to pin Dean against the wall. 

Both of them were hard. 

Sex. 

Sex was one of the primal instincts for Dean. What couldn’t be dealt with violence, he dealt with with sex and apparently it had rubbed on Castiel, or maybe it was just that human body that couldn’t get enough of feeling Dean in any possible way,

“What’s your cock hard for? Violence? Sex? Me?” Castiel teased, rubbing his hips against Dean’s in a circular motion.

“Go to Hell,” there still was rancour in Dean’s voice, but the tone was lighter like he couldn’t ignore his body. 

“You already sent me there, Dean,” Castiel growled, close to his lips, “I came back, sorry, bad plan,” he added, feeling the right to hold a grudge over that too, but then he just kissed Dean again, their usual way to make up, their way to say what pride or, probably stupidity, always kept them from saying out loud and this time Dean kissed back from the first moment. Still hard, still too close to a fight, lips and teeth and spit, but intimate, tasting of them and their reckless and complicated bond.

Dean stopped to struggle into the hold, he tried to cover Castiel’s hands and when Castiel felt that he moved, letting his hands slip up, to entwine their fingers together, bodies moving against the wall with the same rhythm of the kiss. 

“Need you,” Dean just grunted, not breaking the kiss, freeing his hands to go straight for Castiel’s slacks and the angel chuckled against his lips. He should have known, he should have expected that. 

It took Castiel half a second to open Dean’s jeans and push them down, looking just to see him quickly kick off a shoe to free one leg from the pants, leaving them still around the other ankle, over the remaining shoe. A moment later Castiel was pushing back against him, cocks, sliding against each other wetly. 

“Come on, Cass.”

“Would hurt,” Castiel observed. He could make it easier, wetter, but they both knew it would be fast and hard, they knew all the anger and pain were going to be into that fuck.

“Don’t care,” Dean shook his head, raising his naked leg on Castiel’s hip, over the trench coat. It felt even dirtier with their clothes on, even more like what it was: their exorcism. 

“As you want,” Castiel conceded with a nod. To be honest, he didn’t care if it was going to hurt, not today. Damn, maybe some pain would have been a good way to put reason in Dean’s empty head. Maybe some pain was what Dean deserved. He stroked himself a few times, spreading the wetness over himself, using his Grace to make it all even more slippery, just a bit though, but then, just like that, Castiel moved and slid in, in a long and slow trust. 

Dean cursed in pain, eyes closed tight, but he used the leg around the angel to pull him even close.

“Move,” he whispered, voice rough. 

“No need to ask,” Castiel only said before starting a punishing pace. He reached Dean’s hand once more, their hands sliding against each other like their bodies were doing, Castiel’s face hidden against Dean’s throat. 

He needed it, he needed to smell Dean’s scent, it felt like home more than even Heaven ever did. Safe and comforting even now, even when he had lost everything, even Dean. But his scent was still there and he could smell it one more time, relearn it as new, memorize it for the darkest days that were to come. 

“Cas,” Dean moaned, his cock sliding against the crumpled white shirt, soiling it. 

“I’m here,” Castiel replied because he was because that probably was his personal curse. Not to be kicked out of Heaven, to lose his wings, but falling for the mortal and devote his existence to him. He felt Dean press his forehead against his shoulder, felt the warmth even through three layers of clothes, but all he did was to move faster, to pound into that now pliant body, just to feel Dean whimper and moan, closer with every shove. 

It took little before Dean came with a suffocated whine, biting into his partner’s clothed shoulder, short fingernails sinking on the back of Castiel’s hands, and it was enough to push him over the edge as well. Castiel came without even stopping to move, short, angry thrusts to milk his orgasm to the last drop. He then stayed still for a moment, distractedly feeling Dean’s leg slid down his hip, but too busy smelling, for the last time, the scent of the two of them together, the sweat on Dean’s skin that he wasn’t going to lick away, not this time. When he was ready, when even a second more was going to be too much, he took a step back, not even looking at Dean while he slid down the wall to sit on the floor with a flinch. Instead, Castiel tucked himself in, cleaning his soiled shirt with a distracted gesture before he zipped up his pants. 

“I can…” he offered, gesturing toward Dean’s spread legs, but as always Dean shook his head no. He was still half naked, still panting hard, but his jaw was tight again, the slackness of pleasure already gone

“I don’t forgive you,” Dean said, not looking up. 

“I never thought a fuck could have changed that. Goodbye Dean,” Castiel said, turning toward the stairs. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, even if he didn’t need to like his body was suddenly too heavy to drag around. He wanted to go back to be only an Angel, only Grace with an Ethereal form. He wanted to forget what real, free love meant. He wanted not to know pain. 

“You going then?”

“You’re not the only one who lost someone,” Castiel reminded him, starting to climb the stairs. It felt like a real goodbye, and yet he knew, they both knew, it probably wasn’t. not with their lives, not with what they were. Still, it was a goodbye to the two of them, to what they were even a few days before.


End file.
